


Your name is Mako Rutledge

by GreenhouseNurse



Series: Who you were. Who you are. [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Bullying, Childhood, Death, Family, Fat Shaming, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Motorcycles, Murder, Origin Story, Pigs, Self-Hatred, Violence, of a minor character but yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenhouseNurse/pseuds/GreenhouseNurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Roadhog.</p><p>You are quiet and angry and not who you used to be. You think that Mako Rutledge is still alive somewhere inside you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you are six (you are loved)

Your name is Mako. You are six years old. You don't have a mom anymore but it's okay because your dad promised you that he'd always be there. 

And your dad is big and strong. He says he's big because of all the muscles he has but when he says that grandma just smiles and shakes her head.  
It's okay with you because there is more dad to hug.

You live in New Zealand with him and grandma and grandpa. Grandma's cool and doesn't burn food like dad does. Grandpas's always cranky and smells like kangaroo farts, but you can't say that or you get put in timeout.

Everything outside your house is green and pretty and your mom's favorite color.  
You'll see it alot more on your way to school, since she won't be here to homeschool you anymore. But you have dad hugs and grandma food, and a grumpy grandpa so you think it'll be okay.


	2. you are eleven (you are hurting )

Your name is Mako. You are eleven years old. You had to move schools last year after the bullying from the other kids turned from words to fists.

You don't think you did anything. You think they just realized one day that you wouldn't fight back. Your dad had told you what anger does.

_"It changes you Mako. Kindness does too in a way, but anger. Anger eats away at you until its the only thing left. It's a sickness."_

You had briefly wondered who the boys who held you to the ground used to be. You stopped wondering when a shoe collided with your teeth.

It's a different playground, a different set of people but despite your grandma's love, and your dad's hugs, and your grandpa's rough pats on your back, you are afraid.

And when the other children see you hiding behind the fence, scarred face and gold-capped broken teeth hidden by the shadow of the leaves, they too are afraid.


	3. you are thirteen (you wish you weren't)

Your name is Pig. You are thirteen years old. You are greasy hair and pimples, you are overweight and a cracking voice. You are something only a mother could love but isn't that to bad because she's dead isn't she.

The only kindness you get comes from within a small home surrounded by your mother's favorite color. You run home different ways every day, so they won't find and hurt you, and when you get home you tell them lies about the friends you don’t have because the lies are the kindest thing you can give the people you love.

It makes you feel sick each time you do but it's better than watching them cry again.

Your nights are spent in a safe-haven of familial love. You only have Grandma and Dad now. The food reminds you of the names and Dad's hug seem like lies, but its all you have.

And when you wake up you don't feel like moving. You wonder if it's possible to melt like butter into the sheets.

You go to school and are greeted as Pig. You sit at your defaced desk and wish for it to go up in flames.

Just don't take anyone else into the fire with you though.

You have to be kind.

The imaginary fire burns your skin like pork skin crisps, spitting fat and crackling. If you try hard enough it covers the hisses and cackling of the classroom. You pretend the smoke covers their faces, the errant flecks of sizziling grease-boiling hot- keep them back, against the walls where they can't reach you. You can't hear the lesson from the teacher who refuses to notice, because you are now smoke. Drifting higher and higher and out the cracked windows away from your disgusting body.

You drift through the green leaves that whisper with your mother's voice. And you are not Pig. You are..

_"Mako. Mako my lovely boy. Mako-"_

"Mako, pay attention."

You are Mako.


	4. you are eighteen (you are dying)

Your name is 'that one fat fuck' and 'fat ass' and 'Pig'. You are eighteen years old. You just buried the only person left who loved you. Your dad died two years earlier and now your grandma joined him and grandpa beneath the earth.

The funeral was small and quiet. There were 'sorry for your loss's and 'my condolences' but they were empty and hollow and you don't care anymore. They weren't grandma food. They weren't dad hugs. They weren't grandpa pats on the back. And there wouldn't be anymore.

You didn't cry at funeral. Instead you went home and then when no one could see you-it was safe then- your chest caved in as your heart rotted. Your belly filled in with food to suffocate the hurt. You imagined your skin burning and becoming smoke. You drifted out the window and you were five again.

You danced with your mother leaves swirling around your head, the loud green drowning out the sound of you screaming.

You danced with smoke legs and arms holding her smoke hands. Through the forest, and beyond the old pig farm, past the river, and far far away from here.


	5. you are forty-eight (somehow)

Your name is Roadhog. You are forty-eight years old. You are an idiot. The money you were trying to steal is on fire, and it's not supposed to be, but when you agreed to work for your employer this is what you signed up for. Things almost never going as planned, everything is on fire, permanent hearing loss in your right ear, and bad ideas.

Speaking of bad ideas you catch your employer as he literally flies by, and compared to your size and the fact that you've scruffed him, he looks like a mangy arsonist kitten.

"Oy why'd you stop me."

"Timer."

"Oh fuck, yer right, thanks Roadie."

How does he even forget he set up a bomb the size of a car under the building. How does someone do that. As you book it out of there Junkrat in one hand money in the other, you wonder how he's survived this long without you.

He's ridiculous. And if were anyone else you would have smashed their head in.  
But he treats you like a friend. You think. You wouldn't know because you've never had one before.  
'It's nice,' you think as the building explodes behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh look momentary, one chapter, time skip  
> also good feels yay
> 
> also how does one do australian lingo


	6. you are eighteen (you are dead)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: pigs will eat anything kids

You are eighteen. Your father is dead, your mother is dead, your grandparents are dead, and you think that now something inside you is too.

For eighteen years you tried to be kind, but it made you feel like a rot had settled in your soul and it ate and ate and ate...

_"like a pig"_

You wonder as you beat this boy's face in-you don't even know his name- how your Father didn't lose himself to his kindness. There is so much input and nothing comes from it but a feeling of wanting death, wanting to die...

_"you should just kill yourself"_

You want to believe your dad was strong. The man with warm dad hugs, and the kind heart, and a love of food. He...

_"just like your daddy."_

Blood stains your knuckles. Splatters your shirt.

Your name isn't Pig. You tell the boy this as you drag him through the forest out to the old pig farm. It isn't Fat Ass or Fat Fuck. And at the edge of the pen, at the feed bin you ask him if he even knows your name.

In a panic he answers Chris and you smile.

As you heave him with his broken leg and dislocated arms into the hog pen.

He doesn't know that any answer he gave would have been wrong.  You aren't Pig. You aren't Mako either. Mako was kind and loving. Mako was weak. Mako is gone.

And deep in the green, under a canopy of your mother's favorite color, screams are muffled and you are ill.

Nobody see's it happen. Mother won't let them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances on a printed out version of the overwatch wikipedia page*  
> This is a special dance called the "fuck canon" dance. 
> 
> Also the tale of Roadhog begins. And if I do this right his story will connect with Junkrat's.


	7. you are twenty-three (you are running)

You don't have a name. You are twenty-three years old and once upon a time your birthday may have meant something more than 'you are old enough to enter this bar', but it doesn't.

Back when you were younger watching the hogs eat the last of the boy's flesh- isn't it funny that you didn't know his name either- and after you had burned anything that would send police your way, you began to think about the pigs.

From the time they are born they are conditioned to eat anything put in front of them. They eat and eat and eat, until one day they are big enough and they are killed, and the cycle continues with the piglets. Humans completely control this. And yet you were witness to a hog chewing on the meat of Boy's face and you realize in conditioning pigs to eat anything put in front of them, humans created something predatory.

Half a year after Boy, you left your home. There was nothing there for you anymore. And New Zealand was New Zealand so Mother was everywhere. You took Dad's bike and the exhaust would dance with Mother wherever you went. You found that mainly meant not stopping. Biker bars, sleeping under stars, gas stations. You forget what you were looking for but you hunted empty stretches of highway for it. Like a large angry predator.

Like a Road Hog.

It's kinda funny and sounds like something Dad would have said.

For a moment Mako smiles.

By morning you are Roadhog, leaving a trail of exhaust down the road to dance with Mother.

Mother does not know you.


	8. you are thirty two (and filled with hate)

Your name is Roadhog. You are thirty-two years old. Eight months after your birthday an explosion of enormous proportions destroyed most of Australia and the fallout killed most of New Zealand's beautiful greenery. Mother is gone. The exhaust trails from your pipes can't reach her and the mask you wear as to not breathe in radioactive particles makes the few greens left a dead grey.

And then to hurt you more the ones who took what little you had were rewarded with what was left of the outback. Needless to say you joined the opposition.

The Australian Liberation Front was just a really fancy name for angry, unkempt, homicidal, hobos. You almost fit in. However your refusal  to say more than needed and giant hulking stature put people- who were murderers mind you- on edge. But you stayed. You stayed because you were allowed to be angry, you were allowed to murder. It was natural the way you could crush a skull and get a nod of approval. It got you paid.  Your first real paycheck was kill two men and an Omnic, and you felt vindicated as if someone needed you for once.

That feeling of decent food in your stomach was maybe as good as grandma food. But you wouldn't remember.

 


	9. you are thirty-nine (and mother is calling)

Your name is Roadhog. You are thirty-nine years old. It has been years since you have seen the green of Mother. Smoke comes from your exhaust pipe on a stretch of dead road and it swirls with the dust, a message lost and never reaching its intended place. It doesn't hurt anymore. The hole it should have left has been covered over and smothered deep inside you.

The hole is covered in gore and bones and sins. You know it is there because its existence claws gently at your soul, whispering something unintelligible. But with each person you kill the cap becomes more reinforced. You cannot afford for it to open.

The dirt road ends at a ruined shack, the air smelling of gunpowder and rot and you park your bike a safe distance away because your employers have warned you how dangerous this man is. You weren't the first to be assigned the job. You are the fourteenth.

You understand why when halfway to the shack you are blown  back from the ground. And all you can hear for a few minutes is a high piercing note. Your head begins to clear and you can feel small wiry hands against your pant leg trying to dig through your pockets.

The first thing you can hear after a long g note, is a childlike squeal when your large hand swings around pressing the assailant into the dirt.

And when you look down at the idiot who tried to kill you and didn't even check to see if the body was still alive, the first thing you see is how damn small the kid is.

He's wiry, wild-eyed, and way to thin. And way to damn young.

He babbles a string of what you think might be English, but you can't understand because the kid is shaking and stuttering and has that look in his eyes that you see in the seconds before you crush a mans neck.

To see it on the face of a grown man is exhilarating, but this time it makes you sick.

 

_You had briefly wondered who the boys who held you to the ground used to be. You stopped wondering when a shoe collided with your teeth._

 

"...Please, please, I'll g-give ya whatever ya w-want mate. I c-can pay ya off. Just don't-"

 

_"It changes you Mako. Kindness does too in a way..."_

 

"-don't wanna die. Please-"

 

When you tug the shaking kid up from the ground- he's way too light, way too thin- and you take him to your bike, you feel whispers at the back of your skull.

They claw insistently when you shove a ration of food into his hands, grunting at him to eat.

When the shaking stops, and a flicker of a smile crosses his face- though his eyes still hold suspicion-, though there is no green around, you can hear Mother.

The smoke from the boys' smouldering hair goes to dance with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back you lovable fucks. So part two is finished Roadie met Rat. It ain't over though. We'll be back for part three.
> 
> Also Junkrat is sixteen when this happens. So he is very much a kid. He smol.

**Author's Note:**

> You thought i was done but nah


End file.
